3

  The break room of the Burdock Police Department contained two round tables seated with five chairs each, a refrigerator with a freezer compartment on top, a trash bin by the door, and a sink. The only two people in the room were Andrew and Theresa, both stuck with the graveyard shift; they were playing gin at one of the tables. They mainly played to kill time, but their friendly rivalry kept it from being too monotonous. Theresa sat with perfect posture, accentuating her tall & slender frame, while her red hair sat in a loose ponytail. Dean thought the few freckles dotted around her face and nose were sort of cute, but would never openly admit it. Across from her, Andrew’s posture was equally im-perfect; he sat hunched over his cards with one hand resting under the chin of his lightly stubbled face. His shaggy chestnut colored hair hung in his vision as he tried, unsuccessfully, to blow it out of the way.

  The two didn’t acknowledge Dean as he walked in or as he sat next to Andrew and observed his hand. He had a 4, 5, and 6 of Spades, three Jacks, and a 9 of Diamonds. Two turns later Theresa placed the final Jack on the discard pile. Andrew grabbed it, flipped his 9 face-down on the draw pile, and said, “Gin.”

  “You bastard.” She dropped her cards, revealing three 5’s, three 4’s, and the King of Clubs.

  “Bad pair.” Andrew said with a small smile. He looked over at Dean, who sat looking at the discard pile. He continued looking at that spot even after Theresa pulled it away to shuffle. “Hey man, are you alright?”

  Dean blinked twice and looked at his coworker. “Yeah, fine. That guy Donald just kinda got to me.”

  “What do you mean?” Andrew asked.

  “He was just so… calm and numb. Like he was just so distraught that he sort of shut off you know?”

  “During my interrogation he got a bit upset. Quite upset, actually. That paired with the grief probably drained him of whatever energy he had left in him.”

  “I get that, but that wasn’t all it. He seemed resigned.”

  This time it was Theresa who spoke, putting down the cards she just finished shuffling, “What do you mean?”

  “He was like…” He thought for a moment. “You know, during Salem witch trials, they would test if someone was a witch by drowning them. They’d tie stones and bricks to the woman’s feet and throw her in the lake, and if she floated to the surface, that would prove she was a witch.”

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  “Pretty fucked up,” Theresa said as she shuffled.

  “Very fucked up,” Dean continued. “I can see the faces of those women as they walked to the shore, knowing that they will die and that there was no way out. Their expressions are long and sullen, with no emotion in it at all. It’s the face of someone who is already dead inside, and they’re just waiting for their body to catch up. That was the look on that man’s face.”

  They all sat quietly for a few seconds before Andrew said, “I guess he’s feeling remorse for killing his wife now that he thinks we’ve got him.”

  Dean noticed the hesitation in his voice. “But you don’t really think he did it either.”

  Andrew looked a little shocked at being put on the spot. “Well, I mean, he doesn’t have an alibi, his story about the preceding events is shaky at best, and we found no evidence of a break-in or anyone else in the home.”

  “But?”

   “But… we don’t have a motive. And because of that I can’t shake the feeling that somehow, he’s innocent.”

  Theresa, who had sat quietly taking this all in said, “Are you going to investigate his house?”

  “Yep, Nicky and I are going tomorrow afternoon to do a full sweep.”

  “He may be a pretty good rookie,” Dean said, “but don’t let his inexperience hold you back. You need to teach him a thing or two before he ends up getting somebody’s ass in trouble.”

  “He’s good with the paperwork and heavy lifting, but if he wants to be a detective, he’s got to practice his fieldwork. I figure in a case like this with no clear motive, anything out of place will be something useful for us. Shouldn’t be too hard for him to find some dots to connect.”

  Theresa slid the cards back in their pack and placed them in the center of the table, “Well you better get some rest if you have to guide that pup around all afternoon. Go home, I’ll beat you another time.”

  “We’ll see,” Andrew said as he got up and started towards the door to the main hall.

  The entryway of the police department contained a circular desk in the center where an officer usually sat, but was now empty. On the ground floor were four doors leading to the holding cells, a break room, the Chief’s office, and a stairwell which led downstairs into the evidence depository. Two staircases were on both sides of the room leading up to the officer’s stations, which were also mostly empty except for a few officers finishing reports. There would be somebody out in the patrol car, Andrew thought, probably either Henry or Susannah. The clock on the wall indicated that it was 1:24 a.m., meaning whoever it was wouldn’t be back in for another four hours.

  As he neared the building’s exit, Dean’s voice called out to him. “Andrew!” He quickly spun around and saw Dean staring at him from the foot of the left staircase. “If you find anything in his house tomorrow, let me know, alright?”

  “Yeah, alright. I’ll keep you posted.” Andrew watched him ascend the steps for a moment and wondered what exactly he had seen in Donald Francis’ that had gotten him so worked up. He turned back towards the front door and mentally prepared for the freezing walk back to his car.